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The Party 6:00 PM, September 6th, 2013. A rich man, known simply by the townsfolk as "Arrguy", was hosting a party at his mansion. Some of the most notable guests were Parax, Cherie, Davy Gunfish, and Richard Goldvane. Parax was one of the first to enter, talking to Richard and Cherie before being greeted by the butler at the front door. "Master Arrguy thanks you for attending," said Dentface—the butler—who shook their hands as they walked in. "We've known him since we were children, of course we'd come," replied Richard. The trio wandered around the main hall for a while, conversing with their fellow party guests and helping themselves to the countless amounts of food laid out across the tables. The party truly was magnificent; the vast quantities of food; the soothing violin music, the brightly lit candles and chandelier; the excellent service provided by the butler and other servants in the mansion. Arrguy was walking around the party, shaking the hands of the most important guests. Goldvane and Cherie stayed together, being the first couple to go to the dance floor; their actions inspired the rest of the couples in the area to join them. Parax, on the other hand, helped himself to the steak and venison on the tables, piling the choicest pieces onto his plate and scrambling away from the crowd with a crazed, hungry expression. 9:04 PM. Parax was stuffed, having spent over 3 hours devouring meat. At this point, most of the guests had become somewhat intoxicated; Goldvane and Cherie were already heading on into the living room, while Parax fell over face-first onto his plate, silently licking it for any traces of meat or salt that he had missed. Finally, one of the female guests lightly tapped him on the shoulder, startling him and making him turn around with a surprised look. 5:20 AM, September 7th, 2013. After such a long party of drinking, eating, dancing, and sexytimes, the guests were finally leaving the mansion, ready to curl up in bed and go to sleep. Arrguy saw each and every one of them off, but began to feel as though he had forgotten something. Shrugging it off, Arrguy went back upstairs to rest. Unfortunately, he could not sleep, compelling him to get up and pace for some time. 6:14 AM. Arrguy still could not go to sleep, so he helped himself to a bottle of champagne he had left in his room, hoping that it would help him fall asleep. Sure enough, he began to feel relaxed. He began pacing around his room again before sitting down at his desk, waiting for the effects to take their toll, writing a few entries in his journal. In time, he began to slip into unconsciousness; first, his leg dozed off. Everything went dark for him, and he fell for what seemed like several seconds, hitting his head on something. "And the man replied, 'that's not a horker! That's my wife!'" said Goldvane, laughing hysterically in his seat. "Yes, Richard, we heard it," moaned Davy. "It's bad enough that Parax keeps telling that joke over and over." "Can't beat the classics," replied Cherie, grinning slyly at Goldvane; he grinned back before sliding a pillow over his crotch. Cherie, Davy, and Richard jumped out of their seats, startled at the sound of a loud crash. They rushed into the dining room, where the noise was heard; sure enough, Arrguy—the man they had known for most of their lives, one of their dearest friends—was lying on the dining room table, which was now cracked in half. Bill screamed; Dent knelt by the body, his mouth gaping wide open at the sight of Arrguy's brutal death. Murder? 12:05 PM. Local law enforcement had the mansion under quarantine, and under FBI supervision. Parax arrived late to the site in his work clothes—a dark, fancy-looking suit and matching tie—ready to investigate alongside the other agents. The few party guests that were present at the time of Arrguy's death were outside, sitting on a bench in the garden. Parax, along with agents Bobby Moon, David McMartin, and Albert Spark, walked into the garden and approached Cherie, Goldvane, and the other guests from last night. "They figured a familiar face would ensure better cooperation," Parax started, kneeling down in front of Cherie and Goldvane. "Now, can you tell me what happened last night?" "We've told them everything we know!" replied Goldvane, looking at Parax in frustration. "We were at a party here, and Arrguy said he wanted to get some rest. He went upstairs to his room, we went into the living room to chat, and an hour later we find Arrguy lying on a table. He had some note on him saying that the murderer would return the next day—and that's today!" Parax pulled a pen out of his pocket and began taking notes, listening carefully and asking the witnesses one-by-one what they knew. Eventually, he concluded that keeping the guests on the investigation site would benefit them greatly; they could use any possible knowledge to their advantage, for example. Besides, if this was murder—like Dent continuously claimed—then at least they have the primary suspects under watch. Parax, Bobby Moon, and Al decided to split up and investigate separate areas of the mansion; Parax and Al went down to the mansion's family morgue, while Bobby went to the crime scene and David headed upstairs to the bedroom. In the morgue, Parax and Al studied the body carefully, looking for any clues that could help them solve this mystery. Eventually, an autopsy was ordered when Parax noticed a lump in Arrguy's throat; inside, the agents found a large sapphire. In addition to this, Arrguy's mouth had a very powerful trace of alcohol, and several of his bones were broken—the latter obviously being from the fall. However, this… sign of heavy intoxication, as well as the sapphire, and even a stab wound on the body's leg, told the agents that there was, in fact, a killer among them. Parax and Al quickly left the morgue to go find Bobby. Inside the main hall, Bob was still searching for clues; all that could be found so far was that Arrguy had fallen through the dining room table, as well as a bloodied fork on the dining room table. Upstairs, however, David had found multiple clues; a railing to the balcony above the dining room was weakened, as if it had been sawed. An oily substance was on the balcony, as well as Arrguy's shoes—which were left lying at the foot of the victim's bed. There was a small trace of blood on the floor, and a bottle of champagne sat on Arrguy's desk; it was still uncorked, and had a strange, barely detectable scent to it. Parax splashed the drink on David's face, and sure enough he was out cold in no time. After he regained consciousness, the group began compiling their theories. "Okay, so there's a slight trail of blood leading from the room to the balcony," Parax started. "His breath has more alcohol in it than Jeremiah himself, a sapphire was lodged in his throat, and a box on the nightstand has an empty necklace that, as suggested by the evidence, once housed said sapphire." "Not to mention the fact that the guy was thrown over the balcony," Bob said. "Right, and there was a sedative in his champagne," mumbled David, glaring at Parax. "So that rules out the possibility of a struggle, unless the effects hadn't taken their full toll," said Al, writing down notes. "So, the currently-accepted theory is that he helped himself to the bottle of champagne when he went upstairs. A killer emerged from the closet—given the looks of the contents of it—and must've tested Arrguy's alertness by stabbing him with the fork Bob found." Parax got up, pacing around the room. "I would assume, then, that the sapphire was forced down Arrguy's throat, and he was thrown over the balcony to seal the deal—though I'm uncertain as to why the killer wouldn't just throw him over the balcony… Why leave clues?" "Perhaps he or she wants to toy with us," Bob suggested. "Maybe… It would definitely explain the oily substance on the balcony and Arrguy's shoes." "We're dealing with a very clever murderer here," David said, "but whether it was an assassin who simply slipped in or one of the guests is beyond me…" "I love dealing with clever killers," Parax mumbled, scratching his head. "Or maybe he or she is not as clever as one might think… There's a possibility that it may be Bill." "…That's a… stunning accusation," replied Dent, looking at Parax with a confused expression. "I'm just gathering this from how he's acting, lately," Parax said. "He's had this 'evil mastermind' behavior, but that may have just been the drinks at the party. Maybe it's him, maybe it's not, but we're not going to point fingers at anyone without solid evidence." 10:06 PM, September 14th. The killer remained unknown, but the agents did learn one new thing: he or she was clearly toying with them. Inside one of the rooms of the mansion, the investigators found juicy steaks waiting for them on a table, each with a note from the killer. The murderer was apparently judging the investigators and party guests by their theories, as the ones who could not figure out what happened were threatened in their notes; those who could figure out what happened—or came close to it—were complimented by the killer and assured that they would survive the next few nights. Anyone whose theory was considered "average" by the killer was told to stay vigilant and that they may or may not be safe. Parax couldn't find his note, however, frustrating him greatly; however, Dent himself delivered the note, having pre-read everyone's and found Parax's note one of the more interesting. Parax quickly opened the envelope and began reading to himself: Mr. Parax, I will say that you have done marvelous these past few days and I will be providing you with a lovely surprise in the coming nights... Sincerely, You know who Surely enough, there were several surprises soon after. The next day, as morning arose, it was evident that the poolside patio dessert night ended up being quite the crazy party. The pool water was filled with blood, and a countless amount of bodies. The patio was also covered in blood, but only one single corpse was there. The dead body of X Jumper was sitting in a chair in the center of the patio. One knife was in his head, another was in his hand. Also, a delicious piece of devil's food cake was stuffed inside his mouth. As it turned out, the only people that survived the night were those who did not go down for dessert. Among the dead were countless party guests and a few agents, including John Goldwing, William Seasteel, and Jason Blademorgan. David and Al went to the guest room Jumper was staying in, while Parax opped to go down to the morgue to investigate Jumper's body a few hours after the crime scene was set up. As he was heading downstairs he was stopped by Dent. The butler gave him a slip of parchment, which he had apparently found addressed to the agent. It was quite an interesting find, if Parax had to say. He began reading it, and started trembling in frustration. Hello, Mr. Parax, Since you have been smart enough to properly uncover my previous murder, there is one piece of information I would like you to know about the people in the pool. I did not kill them. This is the truth. I have chosen to give you this information, as I doubt nobody else would believe I was telling the truth. You see? I do have a heart. Do what you wish with this information, I trust you will use it to your advantage. Sincerely, The person who didn't kill all those people Parax tucked the letter into his coat pocket and went down to the morgue. He then proceeded to investigate Jumper's corpse; all he could find was that a knife was lodged in the back of Jumper's head, and that he was clutching a bloodied knife. Having no other information, Parax went upstairs to seek out Albert, who had information from Jumper's room. According to Albert, Jumper had a box of pills in his nightstand drawer; the box read "anti-psychotic medication, please take 2 every 12 hours. Prescribed to Mr. X Jumper by Doctor Jane S. Doe." Furthermore, the pills were—in fact—sugar, rather than anti-psychotic. Under Jumper's bed, there was a pile of knives stashed. An empty book was left open on top of one of the room's shelves. It was titled "Mental Diseases and Their Cures", and the page it was opened to explained that medication should be used twice every twelve hours; without it, the person suffering from the disease will undergo outbursts of violence. If left untreated, the patient may resort to murder. "We'll need to talk to someone investigating the crime scene," Albert suggested. "Agreed, but let's at least piece this information together," replied Parax. "Jumper has supposedly been taking a medication of sorts, except the pills are made of sugar. This may suggest that his pills had been… stolen. Given that he is clutching a bloodied knife and the primary killer is supposedly not responsible for their deaths, I would assume Jumper did it. Whether on his own whim or by coercion by the murderer, Jumper attacked the people in the pool." Parax paced around before continuing. "After the deaths in the pool, Jumper then proceeded to commit suicide… or the killer did it after he outlived his usefulness." "Sounds plausible," agreed Albert. "But what about…" "Hmm, yes," continued Parax, remembering another piece of information. "The food stuffed in Jumper's mouth. I wonder how that got there…" "Perhaps Jumper simply committed the murders as they came out for dessert," suggested Albert. "Maybe he was eating as well, and bam! The killer gets him." "Possibly… We need to speak to the others before something else happens."